


From your skin to mine;

by maidenstar



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maidenstar/pseuds/maidenstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All the things she'd thought she wanted to tell him flew from her mind. They'd nearly died today, what did it matter right at this moment?" After nearly drowning together, there are no more words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So please firstly be warned about the sexual content that takes place below, and secondly be warned that this is my first attempting at writing said type of content, so please be slightly forgiving!
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated, and let me take this opportunity to say a huge thank you for all the marvellous, wonderful feedback on my last few fics - it absolutely blew me away.

In the end, they're found in the middle of the ocean, still coughing salt water out of their lungs, clinging to each other with numb fingers, buffeted about by the strong ocean current, their feet kicking out goodness knows how many miles above the seabed in an attempt to stay afloat.

She was exhausted from the whole ordeal, from the fear of facing HYDRA head-on, from trying to bandage up Fitz's injured arm, and from the seemingly endless plummet and earth-shattering crash with which they hit the water, sinking down, down, down until the medical pod fell apart at the seams. They'd battled to make it up to the surface, the gasp of fresh air as they broke the water a painful, burning relief filling her aching lungs, but their joy was short lived as they'd turned a full three-sixty degrees looking for land, or for help, only to come up short. It was impossible to tell how long they'd kicked at the water as she tried to support Fitz (already a weak swimmer) with his injured arm, even as he tried to resist her help, tried to support _her_ instead.

There were three words still echoing in her ears as they floated together, words he'd choked out as their prison had started falling apart, and she had barely had time to process each syllable before water began rushing in from the cracks forming around them, deafeningly loud, so loud that it swallowed up her reply. There was no way she could say all she wanted as they struggled to float; even breathing had become a great effort by the time the team caught up with them.

In fact, she had no idea _how_ the team found them, or even how Triplett and Coulson managed to pull them from the water while May deftly held the plane steady above them. It was not their plane, and she stopped for all of one second to wonder, and to care, where they picked up this replacement.

She was still coughing as Skye ran to her, wrapping a blanket around her trembling shoulders and taking her weight as Jemma found her right ankle sore, swollen perhaps from their impact when they hit the ocean, and weak from treading water. Triplett and Coulson each had a hand on Fitz's shoulders, keeping him steady, and her heart lurched to see how pale and exhausted he looked.

Soon, Skye had dragged her off to a secluded space, helping her to dry off as May appeared with some fresh clothes. She was too tired, too numb, to do anything but undress unabashedly, and the other women kept silent, allowing her this moment to reflect. They flanked her closely, however, on their way back to the communal area of the plane, as though scared she might fall down at any moment, but she found she had strength enough to keep upright until she could sit beside Fitz, already in fresh jeans and shirt and recounting their story to Coulson and Triplett. Together, they explained everything, voices wavering slightly as they told how Ward forced them into the medical pod even as they begged him to let them go, only to eventually drop them straight into the ocean below.

"Bastard," Trip gritted out, eyes coming to rest on her as she shifted beside Fitz, keen to stick close to him until she could be sure that they were both truly alive, that their survival wasn't all some kind of cruel dream. "How about you, you okay too?" he asked her. 

She went to speak, but was overcome by a sudden burst of emotion - pure relief, she decided later - and her eyes were suddenly two dams close to bursting, so she pressed her lips shut and nodded, not trusting herself not to cry.

"Trip sorted my arm out," Fitz told her, nudging her gently with his good arm, as he held out the injured one, flashing a grateful look at Triplett.

"There wasn't much to do," Trip replied casually. "You'd already done a pretty good job."

Again she smiled and nodded, keen to avoid the looks of concern on everyone's faces, but especially the burning look of anger and guilt in Coulson's eyes that made her want to barricade herself into a room and phone home to her parents.

"You shouldn't have had to do anything, this shouldn't have happened," Coulson muttered, fury and apology evident in equal measure in his voice.

"It's okay sir, we knew the risks," Fitz assured him quietly, and she could see from the corner of her vision that his was gaze fixed on the side of her face.

"We caught up with Ward and Garrett," Skye told them a moment later, her voice strained, and Fitz's gaze darted to her instead.

"And?"

"They're in custody, a joint effort between Talbot and Hill. The latter seems to have roped in Stark to help. Garrett's refused to say anything but Ward's been slightly more helpful." May's voice was as level as ever as she filled in the details, but there was clearly a great deal at play beneath the surface.

"We know about a few HYDRA bases and science facilities, there are CIA teams securing them as we speak, but we're still working on anything more substantial," Skye filled in for May, and the two shared a look.

"Do you need us to go with them, then?" Fitz asked, addressing Coulson directly, and she struggled to tell if he was exasperated at having to continue working, or determined to deal with the organisation that had left the two of them huddled together deep beneath the Pacific.

"No." Coulson's voice was surprisingly hard.

"Sir?"

"No, you two have been through enough today. There's no need to touch any of the things HYDRA have been working on immediately. It can wait until tomorrow; you both need to take some time. We _all_ do." He turned to May. "What's our ETA?"

"Less than an hour. In fact, I need to get back." She rose and disappeared, presumably returning to the cockpit.

"We're touching back down at the Hub," Coulson informed them. "You'll need to speak to a few people about what happened, but as soon as that's done I want you to take some time. Level out. The bases are all empty so they've readied some rooms there. I want the _four_ of you to get some rest."

He left quickly after, presumably to join May, and there was little for the rest of them to say, so they sat in silence, sipping the drinks Triplett and Skye prepared together.

* * *

 She and Fitz were whisked away as soon as they landed, questioned separately, then together and she felt herself needing to brush away her irritation on more than one occasion as Talbot himself asked increasingly repetitive questions. At long last, when they appeared to have passed whatever test had been set, they were sent off, escorted by a nameless CIA agent to the base that had been readied for them. It was almost identical to one they lived out of during their first year at Sci-Ops, and the corridors were familiar to them.

It was only once the CIA agent left and they hovered awkwardly, shaky and tired, outside their doors that she realised how late it was, and assumed that the rest of the team must have been sleeping.

"Maybe we should take some time to shower and change back into our own clothes?" she suggested eventually, and he nodded, his eyes on their feet. He had been resolutely avoiding looking straight at her since they were rescued, and she knew this had everything to do with the conversation they had never finished as they crouched at the bottom of the sinking pod, both convinced they were about to drown.

Even though she had known precisely what he meant when he had told her he loved her, he had seen fit to correct himself, to make it abundantly clear that he was _in_ love with her. She had seen from the look on his face that he had not really been ready to admit it, but understood keenly the fear of leaving things unsaid. She had wanted to let him know she felt the same, but as she faltered, trying to express everything in one momentary confession, the pod had burst open and it was too late.

She knew how her hesitation must have seemed, and she wanted nothing more than to rectify it all there and then, but her muscles were crying out and her hair was stiff with salt and she couldn't do it like this, not with her stomach painfully empty and her mind agonisingly full. She just needed a few minutes alone, hoped he'd understand after, even as he slunk off towards his door at her suggestion that they part for a moment.

"I'll...I'll come over when I'm done though, yeah?" she asked and he looked up (though still not right at her), face hopeful, half a smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah? Yeah, okay."

* * *

She took her time as she moved about her room, plotting out just what she wanted to say as she rifled through the few belongings of hers that had been salvaged from the Bus. She lingered under the warm spray of the shower and savoured the feeling of changing into a familiar old t-shirt (one of his) and some gloriously soft pyjama pants, before eating the sandwich and fruit they'd left for her. It was hardly a satisfactory meal but she would make do as she exited her room, hoping he would answer the door quickly so no one else would catch her in her nightwear.

"Fitz?" she called as she knocked, and heard him shout from within.

"Jemma? It's open."

The room was dim as she entered; he'd closed the curtains and the room was lit only by the thin beams of light from the bedside lamp. He was sprawled out on his bed, spinning the little TARDIS figurine from his room on the Bus between his fingers.

"Hey, they saved it!" she said, wincing at how falsely cheery she sounded.

"Yeah."

He set the model down on the bedside cabinet, shifting so that he was sat on the edge of the bed, toes tapping out an unconscious rhythm on the floor. There was a pause in which he visibly steeled himself and she noticed the little helpless look in his eyes but, before she even had time to sit down beside him, he launched into an obviously pre-planned speech of his own.

"I know we need to talk about what happened before. You - you know I hate change so, maybe it's for the best this way. I mean, it's totally fine I don't mind you not feeling the same. I just...can we please just try and stay as we are?"

It took her a moment to understand what he was saying, to realise that he was willing to live with his feelings if it meant they could stay friends, and all the things she'd thought she wanted to tell him flew from her mind. They'd nearly died today, what did it matter right at this moment?

She crossed the room and crouched in front of him, one hand on each of his knees, and it took no thought at all for her to stretch up and close the last few inches that remained between them, lips crashing to his with an unintended force that drew a surprised cry from him. It was a moment before he responded but when he did it was in tandem with her, kissing her hard as he tried to pull her closer, and perhaps it wasn't the greatest first kiss in the world, all teeth and tongue and underlying force that said _'we almost died and this is the only way I can tell you I'm glad we didn't'_ , but it didn't really matter to either of them.

They were forced to break apart too quickly for either of their liking, and, gasping slightly, he looked at her sheepishly.

"You mean you…"

"Of course Fitz!" she laughed and his face split into the first real grin she'd seen in ages as he pulled her to him, holding her close for a long time before she drew back to press a kiss to his forehead and coax him to lie back with her on the bed. It had been a long day and she had no desire to stand for longer than necessary.

They both knew, at the back of their minds, that there was a lot they needed to talk about now, but as he wrapped his arms tightly around her back, fingers caressing her waist, they both knew that those discussions could wait until later.

With her hands at his neck she guided them back together, and their kisses became slower, lighter as they breathed each other in. They faltered occasionally as their hands seemed to move over each other of their own volition, as though determined to make sure the other was solid and real. There was a moment when he winced as he knocked his bad arm and was forced to kiss her repeated apologies away, and once, his lips stilled awkwardly against her as her hands unintentionally skimmed too close to the hem of his sweatpants and she couldn't help the uncharacteristic high laugh (that was really a giggle she would later deny) that burst out of her. He pulled away from her after that, burying his head into her neck.

"Stay?" he whispered against her, lips scattering kisses at the column of her throat.

She laughed against him, hands in his hair, pointing out as she stretched out under the covers that it was a bit late for that now. He pulled back in an instant.

"Oh, God. I..uh, I didn't mean... _that_...I mean I'd love to but...No, I just meant," she knew she should have helped him out but, instead, found herself smiling fondly up at him as he lamely finished, "...to...sleep."

Her hand found its way back to the band of his trousers, he was hard against her leg, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

He didn't need to say anything for her to read the look on his face; a strange but perfect mix of flushed embarrassment and a single, sarcastic question; _'can you really blame me?'_

She laughed again, a strong surge of joy chasing the heat that was settling in certain parts of her, and he frowned for a moment, questioning and slightly unsure until he realised her amusement was not at his expense. He smiled at her, a look of happiness that was full and uninhibited, and perhaps it was the delight of this new, exciting _thing_ between them; perhaps it was the raw desperation of being alive; or perhaps it was a mix of both, but before she knew it she was rubbing her hand against him, enjoying the sound of his surprised, choked cry, and the feel of him writhing against her, matching her movements.

Quickly, his lips found hers again and, feeling increasingly bold, she slipped his pants down his hips as she slid her tongue against his, enjoying the moan that rumbled in his chest in response. Another followed a second later as her hand closed around him, and she began stroking him firmly, changing pace slightly until she found a rhythm he seemed to like as her free hand ran up and down his back underneath his t-shirt, dragging her nails softly over his skin, trying to tamp down a strange sense of urgency running within her.

His hand crept under her pyjama pants, caressing her through her underwear with two unerring fingers, until she drifted her hand up across his shoulders and realised how tense he was, and she quickly understood that he was trying to keep himself under control, was trying to hold back.

"Jemma," he told her, a warning in his voice as his own fingers slipped from her centre when she ran her thumb over the head of his cock.

She smiled to herself, kissing him gently on the cheek.

"Fitz," she replied, voice hushed, his name uttered like the prayer she knew it to be. "Relax, it's okay."

It seemed to take a final moment of decision but eventually he dropped his face to the pillow, cheek against her own and she ran a hand through his hair. Resuming her attentions, she sensed him drawing closer and closer to his release as he allowed himself to relax, turning his face to her again, his breath coming in tiny, painful pants, hot against her neck, hands stroking almost reverently at her breasts through the cotton of her (his) t-shirt.

Finally, she felt him let go, a world of emotion and tension and relief falling away, and she held onto him as he came in her hand.

" _Jemma_."

His loud cry was strangled and drawn out, his chest heaving against her own. She could feel the emotion within him mirrored in the lump in her throat as her free hand raked softly through his curls, realising fully, for perhaps the first time, how close she had come to losing him. And, if his cheeks were a tiny bit damp when he kissed her again a moment later, then it hardly mattered because so were hers and they clutched at each other for a moment before she reached for the tissues on the bedside cabinet, cleaning them both off even as his hands moved over her now instead.

His palms were warm and gentle on her stomach, her hips, before his hand danced at her pyjama pants, slipping under them and her underwear this time and she wanted to tell him he didn't have to return the favour as she listened to his shaky breathing, felt his other hand tremble slightly where it gripped at the top of her thigh, encouraging her legs further apart.

She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him it was alright, but then he touched her, spreading her apart and, finding her slick and ready, dipped first one finger, then two into her and the words flew from her mind. She couldn't help the keening noise that she made a second later when he began moving his fingers in firm strokes in and out of her, and she thrust her hips down slightly to meet him, encouraging his free hand to her left breast, to worry at the sensitive skin there.

"Jemma," he whispered, tone strangely harsh and something dancing in his eyes that she couldn't identify. It was an odd feeling for her, struggling to read his expression, and she searched his face until his hands faltered and he looked awkwardly at her, and her heart lurched at the pleading expression on his face. "Sorry, I…"

She shook her head earnestly, tried to let him know it was okay with a chaste kiss as she reached her own hand down to meet his, guiding his fingers in and out of her in a particular rhythm, showing him where and how to rub his thumb, moving her body in time with his hand, sighing when he hit the perfect spot.

"Yes, _there_ ," she encouraged with a soft whisper and when she caught his gaze she was met with an unexpected expression on his face, intense and deep enough to make her breath hitch, to draw back the lump in her throat from before and she felt herself well up slightly.

He watched her face for signs that he was doing the right thing as he crooked his fingers inside of her, and she was careful to encourage him with smiles and gasps as he continued to massage her breast. He slowly pushed her shirt up and over her stomach, giving her a chance to stop him as he exposed more skin, staring at her as though she were something precious, and this only served to thicken the emotion in her throat. Slowly, he licked at the skin between her breasts, gradually nipping playfully at her collar before moving back down to draw his tongue around her right nipple, taking it fully into his mouth as he adjusted the rhythm of his fingers, moving them quickly up into her, and slowly, languorously out. He gauged her reaction, smiled bashfully against her as she cried out when he rubbed against her clit more firmly until she felt herself clenching around him. Her orgasm washed over her more suddenly than she'd expected and, hands on his cheeks, she dragged his face up to hers, foreheads touching as she reached her own, quieter completion.

It was his turn to reach for a tissue then, to clean them both off as she settled against the pillows, sated and more exhausted than ever.

He stretched out behind her, his chest warm and solid against her back and she smiled to herself when his arms came round her stomach, hugging her tight. He placed a kiss in her hair, and she felt him smile against her before he settled

They stayed like that for a while, letting the sound of the other's breathing comfort them, lulling them both to the edges of sleep. She has almost fallen off, drifted to slumber when he shifted against her.

"Hey Jemma?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

It hit her then that she hadn't told him back, not verbally at least, and she smiled against the pillow.

"I love you too, Fitz."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter, on here and on ff.net and tumblr too! It really means a lot to get feedback on my stuff! 
> 
> This is just a continuation into the morning after, and is just more smut! Please keep that in mind and read at your own discretion. I'm still learning as I write with this kind of stuff, but I hope it was okay - please let me know in any feedback and stuff, it's always very much appreciated!

After a night tinged with a strange mix of deep-sea nightmares and the heated memory of her touch, it took him a long minute to gather his bearings when he awoke the next morning.

The thin curtains were stirring slightly, evidence of the intrusion of a tiny draft from somewhere, and the room was bathed in orange, a reminder that no matter how much he wished he could lie there forever, the outside world was waiting for them, and they would have to face it at some point.

He had rolled over in the night, waking up, as usual, on his back, but she had remained tucked up beside him, back pressed against his arm, warm and soft, and miraculously solid and _real_ after the events of the previous day. He had been all but convinced that their situation was hopeless, had been utterly prepared to die, and it seemed inconceivable that he found himself, less than twenty-four hours later, lying in bed with a sleeping Jemma Simmons snuggled up beside him, hair mussed and arm curled under her pillow.

She seemed to be in a deep sleep, and he would have liked to have joined her, but he couldn't seem to stop his mind revisiting the events of the night before, a wash of emotion sweeping over him that seemed to ward off any last vestiges of sleep. Besides, the images of her hands drifting softly over him, and her quiet moaning as she writhed under him, were stirring more than just emotions, and his mouth was suddenly far too dry.

Careful not to wake her, he got up and crept out of bed to pour himself some water, taking the time to brush his teeth and splash some water over his face as he stood at the sink, before returning to sit beside her, back against the bed's headboard, glass in hand. His eyes wandered across the room for a moment before being drawn, almost magnetically, back to her sleeping form. He couldn't help but watch the soothing movements of her shoulder as it rose and fell in time with her breathing, and the slight fluttering of her eyelashes against her cheeks, musing disbelievingly over the fact that she was lying there beside him, that after all of his hesitation and self-questioning, he had admitted the nature his feelings for her, and she had felt the same.

He had lost track of how long he'd sat there contemplating everything when he felt her start to shift beside him, surfacing from sleep, and he cast about for a way to look as though he had not been sat over her, staring, for far too long. She, however, beat him to the mark.

"Fitz. You're staring at me, aren't you?" she mumbled sleepily and he hesitated for a moment, panicking.

"No," he said quietly, but she had already rolled onto her back, peering up at him with an amused smile before shifting herself up the bed so her head was propped on his stomach, staring sleepily up at him. She reached out to where his arm rested on his knee, fingers closing gently round his wrist.

"How does it feel?" she asked, brow furrowed in concern as she gently traced her fingertips over the ugly patches of purplish bruises all over his skin, careful not to hurt him.

"Surprisingly okay," he told her, watching the progress of her fingers.

She stilled her hand after a moment when she noticed his glass of water.

"Fancy sharing?" she asked, "I'm really thirsty."

He had all but handed it over when he felt a sudden surge of playfulness, and lifted the glass way above his head and out of her reach.

"Fitz," she groaned and he laughed as she stretched up fruitlessly.

"I think you're going to have to come and get it."

Rolling her eyes but not bothering to hide her amusement, she pushed herself onto her knees and, pressing herself against him, reached up to take the glass from him. He laughed along with her, trying to keep her from winning this strange battle, when he was momentarily distracted by how close her face was to his own, her features turned up in a wide, joyful smile, the light casting long, beautiful shadows across her cheeks. Neither knew who moved first, but her lips were suddenly against his, hands now braced on his shoulders as she leaned into him. She broke away momentarily to glance up at him, smiling, before placing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and when he leaned in to kiss her again she…

...sat back and pulled away completely. She flashed him a playful look before moving herself off the bed and walking away.

"Um, what was that for?!" he asked indignantly as she made her way in the direction of the bathroom.

"For not sharing with me."

He stared after her, shocked and a little appalled, listening to the sounds of her ablutions as she moved around the bathroom, and when she returned he had barely moved, only leaning over to set his empty glass on the bedside table.

She laughed lightly at his look of mock-hurt, sitting back down beside him on the bed, and tilting her face towards his.

Thinking that two could easily play that game he ducked back, pouting.

"No," he began, already laughing as she reached out for him, hands on his most ticklish spots when he wouldn't let her pull him closer. He grabbed at her wrists, trying to hold her still. "No, you can't just pick and choose when you ki -"

But, apparently, she could, because, capitalising on his momentary distraction, she had captured his lips with her own, holding him stunned with a deep, slow kiss and he would later decide that his brain must have short-circuited for a moment when her tongue swept over his bottom lip. She kissed gently across his face and neck, coming to suckle at the skin just beside his pulse point, and when she bit down a second later he _knew_ his mind must have stopped working for a while because the next thing he knew, she was in his lap, straddling him, one hand hooked over the back of his neck, fingers painting invisible patterns over his skin as her other hand ran slowly up and down the front of his shirt.

In the back of his mind he knew that they should probably be getting ready and joining the team, but he struggled to entertain the thought as he wrapped his arms around her, sliding his palms down over her back, stroking at the base of her spine for a second before dipping them lower. As she drew her lips back to his own, her mouth hot against his, he skimmed his hands back up, skin to skin as he danced his fingers under her t-shirt and up her sides, coming to rest at her waist.

Biting down slightly on his bottom lip, she brought a hand between them, teasing him through the fabric of his pants, his hips moving involuntarily against her, and he welcomed the fact that he was a little more in control of himself, of his emotions, than last night, because he was able to focus fully on what he was doing to her, too. He brought his hands round to cup at her breasts, stroking her skin and teasing her nipples between his fingers, enjoying the tiny, breathy moans that worked their way out of her mouth in response. Trailing one hand down her stomach, he felt her arch into him as his fingers lingered at the top of her thigh, darting out occasionally but never quite touching her centre.

She gave out a tiny moan, a mingling of pleasure and frustration, and brought her hands to the hem of his t-shirt, breaking their kiss to pull it over his head and drop it off the side of the bed. Not content to be the only one disrobing, he quickly mirrored her actions, flinging her top across the room, and it was crazy to think that he had seen her like this only a few hours ago, because he found himself watching her, unable to form the words to tell her how beautiful she was as she sat in front of him bathed in warm morning light.

"God," he half-whispered, more to himself than to her, right at the moment she started moving her hips, grinding herself against him, and the word fell from his lips more as a sigh, or perhaps a prayer. At any rate, it was enough to tug her features into a warm smile, such a lovely mix of delight and suggestion that, coupled with the sensation of her rubbing up against his hardness, he felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him.

Hands now splayed over back, he pulled her closer to him and tilted his head to run his tongue slowly over collar, moving his hands languorously up and down her back, mouthing at her chest, biting down gently before sweeping his tongue over the same spot. He kissed down to her breasts, hands now brushing over her hips as she continued to rock gently against him, her own hands in his hair, moaning at the friction of his cock rubbing against her.

He could already feel the first stirrings of a familiar heat building within him and started to meet her movements, thrusting up against her until he felt her hands suddenly pressing at his chest, urging him backwards as she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his trousers, pushing them down. Reluctantly, he helped her shift off of him so that she could slide his pants down his legs, and push them away to the end of the bed. She made to straddle him again, but he stopped her, hands on her stomach as she knelt beside him.

He smiled, bunching his hands in the fabric of her pyjamas, pulling them down until they were at her knees, and she quickly divested herself of them. There was a flicker of something, a vestige of shyness perhaps, as she watched him watch her, and he thought that there would never be a time when he wasn't in complete awe of her.

Slowly, she moved back towards him, and he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hungrily, tongue at her bottom lip, grazing against her teeth when she eventually opened up to him. He kissed around to her jaw, dragging his tongue over the spot behind her ear, and she rested her hand on his leg, one warm palm gently rubbing at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, before moving to his erection, stroking up and down as he groaned against her, completely unaware of what he was saying but pretty sure the words were unintelligible anyway.

In a moment, his mouth was at her breasts again, and he felt her arch into him and tilt her head back as he drew her nipple into his mouth, lathing it with her tongue. She cried out quietly when he bit down gently, tentatively, unsure, and her grip on his cock slackened as one of her hands raked through his hair roughly. Taking it as a good sign, he repeated the action, just as gently as before, before replacing his teeth with his tongue, unable to keep from smiling against her skin at the moan that echoed in her throat.

He had wanted to draw this out, to take his time, to press his lips to every inch of her and then savour each kiss, but he couldn't help but move his hands to stroke at the inside of her legs, fingers agonisingly close to where she wanted them. Eventually, his hands found the hem of her underwear and he pulled back to look at her, eyes on her own, seeking her approval. She gave him a small smile, before raising herself off of him slightly, and, his eyes still fixed on hers, he hooked his fingers under the waistband and slowly pulled her pants down to her knees.

Lips brushing against her own again, he gently pressed his hand to her shoulder.

"Lie back?" he whispered and she shifted onto her back, letting him arrange her legs as he finished removing her underwear, tossing them carelessly away once he'd done so and crawling over her to press a kiss to her stomach.

Honestly, he had no real idea of what he was doing, couldn't even remember the last time he'd been in a situation like this with a girl and really, when had it ever mattered as much as it mattered now? But this was Jemma, his best friend in the world, and even if he felt a tiny thrill of nerves and anticipation as he kissed across her stomach and down her thigh, he knew neither of them had anything to be truly embarrassed about, trusted her to help him as she had done last night.

He glanced up at her one final time before dropping his head between her thighs, delighting in the sound of her high cry as he darted his tongue out, running it gently over her centre. She seemed to know instinctively to bring her hands to his hair, positioning his head, shifting against him, moaning as his tongue trailed over her clit.

"Fitz. Oh _God._ "

His name fell from her lips in amongst moans and sighs as he swirled aimless patterns with his tongue, humming against her, and he felt her fingers grip tightly in his hair almost involuntarily as he slid two fingers into her. She quickly reduced the pressure but kept her hands firmly on his head, fingers stroking slightly, gently guiding him when necessary.

Eventually, he felt her begin to ripple around him, and, tugging lightly, she pulled his head away from her, sitting up to meet him and, arms around his neck, kissed him fiercely.

"Fitz, please tell you me you have a condom somewhere," she asked against his lips, words all one breathy sigh.

He nodded, trying to articulate that there should be one in his wallet in the bedside drawer, but he found himself capable of doing little more than moan and gesture in the right direction as her hand found his cock again. She must have understood, however, as she reached over and began rifling about in the drawer, and he took the opportunity to return his attention to her breasts until she moved, angling herself away, laughing.

"You're being too distracting," she told him as she eventually managed to find his wallet, plucking the small packet out. He reached out to take the condom from her but she was already tearing the wrapper open, holding his gaze as she slowly rolled it down over him, and he gently dropped his head back against the headboard, panting.

Her eyes never left his as she moved to kneel over him again, and in spite of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, in spite of nearly dying; of admissions of shared feelings; of the heat of her skin against his, the gravity of what was happening hit him square in the chest.

Her hand stilled around him, gripping lightly at the base of his cock and, as she lowered herself onto him, he sat forward to kiss her. She met him, kissing him softly, open-mouthed, lips barely skimming over his as, painfully slowly, she took him inside of her, stretching to accommodate him. Once she had finally lowered herself completely down onto him, they both stilled for a moment, arms around each other, her chest pressed against his, skin to skin, breathing each other in. His eyes slid shut as she sighed, her lips just barely brushing against his own, but as she braced her hands on his shoulders and started rocking against him he forced his eyes open to look at her, and his heart lurched in his chest when he found her staring back, eyes wide and intense.

After a moment, he started to meet her movements, and she began to moan again, soft, high noises that escaped her lips in amongst her breathy sighs, until the sounds mingled with him whispering her name over and over.

They settled into a gentle rhythm and, although he revelled in the intimacy of the position, the angle was strange for him and he couldn't help but give out a slight groan of irritation as he adjusted his pace.

She blinked once at him, understood as he awkwardly tried to find the words and she pulled back from him. He barely contained a sigh as he fell out of her, but then drifted naturally into the cradle of her arms as she wrapped them around him, pulling him with her as she settled once more onto her back, knees skimming at his hips as he braced himself above her, guiding himself slowly back into her, watching her face, checking she was comfortable. He paused for the briefest of moments before beginning to move, adjusting the pace of his thrusts for a minute or two until he found a comfortable rhythm.

She ran her hands up and down his back, eyes half shut as he dropped kisses all over her face and, as he started to feel his orgasm building within him, he reached down between them to where their bodies were joined, fingers rubbing at her clit the way she'd shown him. This drew another, louder, moan from her, and she began moving her hips to meet his thrusts. One of her hands found the back of his neck, her fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"I love you."

The words fell unconsciously out of his mouth, whispered softly against her lips as he went to kiss her, and she reached up, trapping his bottom lip lightly between her teeth until he increased the pressure of his fingers and she broke away, panting.

She cried out a moment later, a wordless moan that seemed to reverberate within him, and he felt her clench around him as she panted into his ear. This sent him over the edge with her, and he came inside her a moment later, moaning her name into the side of her face.

She continued gently rocking her hips as the waves of pleasure rushed over them, both of them riding out the high together, savouring this new feeling until it was over and he moved off of her and got up to throw away the condom. She moved slowly back up the bed, climbing under the covers and, when he joined her, she pillowed her head on his chest, legs tangled between his.

"We'd better get ready to move," she sighed wistfully a little while later, rising and linking her fingers with his, tugging him to the bathroom and into the shower, switching on the water.

Showering, he decided quickly, was much more fun when he did so with her, but also much less efficient, as he spent much longer than was strictly necessary massaging shampoo through her hair, soaping her breasts, and every movement she made was followed by her reaching up to kiss him, sighing against his lips and quietly murmuring his name .

All too soon, however, they were dressed and leaving his room, Jemma forcing him to check multiple times that no one was around before, satisfied that they would not be caught, she followed him out of his room, closing her hand around his as they made their way to the mess hall to meet the team.

If he truly allowed himself to acknowledge the worries skirting at the back of his mind, he'd wonder where this was all going, would worry about what it meant to be at SHIELD, or not-SHIELD, or whatever this was now, as this shift in their relationship played itself out. This strange new status quo between themselves and HYDRA only spelled out more danger, more trouble and tension and while he was hardly thinking of leaving, he knew what it could all mean if things went wrong one day. But he knew that these things would have entered her head too, supposed that they would discuss it at some point. And as she smiled and dropped his hand, pushing open the door to the mess hall and greeting the team as he followed behind her, he knew, as he had always done since meeting her, that two heads were better than one (perhaps the only thing HYDRA had ever gotten right), and that they would work it all out together.


End file.
